Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Belarus and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing 48th St. Collective to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Richard Hell and the Voidoids. All the underground hits.
All Max Romeo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Junior Murvin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Amazonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Fuzztones,
Dark Day,
Sister Nancy,
Gil Scott Heron,
Gichy Dan,
The Cosmic Jokers,
EPMD,
Janne Schatter,
Roxy Music,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Erasure,
Oneida,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Mark Hollis,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Brothers Johnson,
Steve Hackett,
Crispy Ambulance,
Mars,
The Beau Brummels,
kango's stein massive,
Rites of Spring,
The New Christs,
Swans,
Surgeon,
Chris & Cosey,
Television,
Tres Demented,
Wasted Youth,
Minutemen,
Blossom Toes,
Royal Trux,
Neu!,
June Days,
Prince Buster,
Vladislav Delay,
Boz Scaggs,
The Star Department,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Misunderstood,
AZ,
Radiohead,
Cluster,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Aloha Tigers,
Pierre Henry,
Brick,
Bill Near,
Buzzcocks,
Hardrive,
Skriet,
Animal Collective,
Loose Ends,
New Age Steppers,
Crash Course in Science,
Siglo XX,
John Lydon,
The Doors, The Doors, The Doors, The Doors.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.